Representing Reality with Integrity

Few television shows have received as much academic praise as HBO’s The Wire. From City Hall to the classroom to the street corner, The Wire brilliantly captured the heart and soul of urban America—the same heart and soul meticulously detailed in countless academic studies of urban inequality.

Yet the scholars that research urban America rarely come into contact with the actors that portray urban America in television or film. That is, until two weeks ago when three actors from The Wire—Andre Royo (Bubbles the junkie), Sonja Sohn (Kima the detective), and Michael Williams (Omar the stickup artist)—sat down with three scholars—Harvard sociologists William Julius Wilson and Larry Bobo, and Yale graduate student/Baltimore native Brandon Terry—to discuss the social policy implications and lessons from the show.

After the panel, Royo, Song, and Willams were escorted to a private after-party at The Harvard Lampoon, a building that houses the Harvard undergraduate humor magazine of the same name. Since the panel’s moderator is also my colleague in the Sociology department, I received a highly coveted (and much appreciated) invite to the party.

As a huge fan of the show, I could barely contain myself. I tried my best to keep it cool, keeping my camera in my pocket and resisting the urge to ask for an autograph. But when I sparked a conversation with Andre Royo, my composure started to fade. See, Bubs was my favorite character on the show, and Royo’s brilliant and careful portrayal of the homeless drug addict made my admiration for the character that much stronger. After a geek-out session about the show’s integration of professional actors with actual Baltimore natives (we went back and forth for a good five minutes listing each and every B-more local that appeared on the show), we started to talk about the inherent difficulty of portraying junkie.

Of course, playing a junkie isn’t that difficult, if the whole twitching-and-randomly-scratching-yourself caricature is your thing. But fans of The Wire know that Bubbles wasn’t your average junkie. There was an art to the way Royo played Bubs, a unique take on a classic character that fundamentally changed the way we approach “the junkie:” We never pitied him when he fell, but rather rooted for him to rise back up. In a strange way, the down-and-out junkie was the show’s most consistent hero.

According to Royo, a few unpaid consultants helped him develop the character. These consultants showed up at his trailer each morning, followed him and the production crew throughout Baltimore, and advised him through each and every scene. When he threw away a cigarette before smoking it to the filter, for example, they were quick to correct his mistake. How were they privy to the intimate details of life as a junkie? Because these consultants weren’t really consultants at all: They were the men and women that lived their lives on the streets of Baltimore. The very men and women Royo’s character was based on.

After each day, he’d retire to his trailer and remove his makeup. “And when I’d walk out,” he told me, “I looked at these people that had helped me all day, and I could see the betrayal in their eyes. At the end of the day, I could get cleaned up and go home, while they spent the night on the street. They looked at me like a sellout. It [messed] with my head for a long time.” Royo would feel depressed, and after particularly long days he often needed to spend time alone, away from everyone, to gather his thoughts. Here were men and women that could barely get by, struggling with addiction, and Royo was exploiting their lived experiences to get a paycheck. I asked Royo how he dealt with the guilt. “I just tried to portray the character—their world—with humanity. That’s all I could really do,” he replied. “But it was hard for me, emotionally.”

Detailing the lives of marginalized and disadvantaged communities requires a profound responsibility—a responsibility to be humble, compassionate, and above all else, honest. When Royo waxed philosophical, introspectively analyzing his role as both actor and representative, I couldn’t help but connect. As a qualitative researcher of urban inequality, I’m constantly dealing with the label of “privileged white guy that studies poor black people.” One the one hand, I feel a moral obligation to fight for those that are systematically disadvantaged. But on the other hand, such analyses can quickly become deeply paternalistic. Those that are familiar with my work and ideas know that I reject fetishizing “the other,” taking a comprehensive approach that avoids a singular focus on poor people of color. Still, the risk of exploitation never leaves the back of my mind. I never forget that I am making a career out of someone else’s life. I never forget who I am, constantly problematizing my ability to ever fully understand someone else’s world. And I never forget why I do it in the first place or why these issues matter. Like Royo, I constantly question myself, my work, and my role as a researcher.

Representing reality—be it on television or in academic research—requires a commitment to the craft of storytelling. But more importantly, it requires integrity. It was that integrity that made The Wire so powerful, and it is that critical honesty that makes good research. Urban polemics notwithstanding, this was the show’s most valuable lesson.

Republicans Wear Sneakers, Too

In 1990, Democratic challenger Harvey Gantt opposed Republican incumbent Jessie Helms in North Carolina's Senate race. Gantt, an early civil rights leader and Mayor of Charlotte, ultimately lost the election, thanks in part to a racially charged advertisement from the Helms campaign. The now infamous ad, “Hands,” depicted a white man crinkling up a piece of paper after losing his job to a minority, implying, of course, that unfair racial quotas were to blame. Written by Republican strategist Alex Castellanos, the ad would go down in political history as one of the more egregious (and successful) exploitations of white resentment for political gain.

When asked to endorse Gantt for the Senate seat, NBA legend and North Carolina native Michael Jordan refused, stating, “Republicans wear sneakers, too.” The implication was clear, and the message came through loudly: As an avid businessman and superstar athlete, Jordan was happy to shelve his politics—and self dignity, for that matter—in favor of merchandise sales.

Flash forward nineteen years. Last week, conservative radio personality and former ESPN NFL commentator Rush Limbaugh announced interest in buying the beleaguered St. Louis Rams. Rejecting Michael Jordan-style political ambivalence, players across the league openly expressed dissatisfaction. Mathias Kiwanuka of the New York Giants, for example, was quoted as saying:

"I mean, I don't want anything to do with a team that he has any part of. He can do whatever he wants, it is a free country. But if it goes through, I can tell you where I am not going to play […] I am not going to draw a conclusion from a person off of one comment, but when it is time after time after time and there's a consistent pattern of disrespect and just a complete misunderstanding of an entire culture that I am a part of, I can't respect him as a man."

Kiwunaka was not alone. In 2003, Limbaugh resigned as an ESPN commentator after making racially charged remarks about Donovan McNabb, suggesting that the Pro Bowl quarterback only reached stardom due to the media’s irrational desire for “a black quarterback [to] do well.” Current players, like New York Jets linebacker Bart Scott, have not forgotten these statements:

“It’s an oxymoron that he criticized Donovan McNabb. A lot of us took it as more of a racial-type thing. I can only imagine how his players would feel. I know I wouldn’t want to play for him. He’s a jerk. He’s an —. What he said (about McNabb) was inappropriate and insensitive, totally off-base. He could offer me whatever he wanted, I wouldn’t play for him. … I wouldn’t play for Rush Limbaugh. My principles are greater and I can’t be bought.”

In a league that’s between 60 and 70 per cent black, it’s more than a little insulting to imagine a man that once suggested the NFL “all too often looks like a game between the Bloods and the Crips without any weapons” could become a team owner. In fact, it’s absolutely outrageous. That a man with such overt, explicit contempt for African Americans could purchase and control an organization that profits from the labor of black athletes signals far too much historical baggage to be appropriate. Sports hold a special, unifying place in American culture, and as a result shouldn’t be a venue that rewards bigotry and divisiveness. Limbaugh’s disrespect of the league, its players, and African Americans in general are all legitimate grounds to oppose his involvement with the NFL—all opinions, I might add, that exist above and beyond any objection to his political views.

Given Limbaugh’s long history of racially charged remarks, it’s not surprising that players were offended by his announcement. But what is surprising is the public nature of their comments. Normally, team owners work to thwart political activism and diffuse dissent among their players. Bad for business, per the Jordan model of merchandise sales. But with the controversy over Limbaugh’s announcement, professional athletes may be moving toward a new model of political discourse, rejecting the Jordan template and re-embracing self dignity. The recent news that Limbaugh was officially dropped from the group bidding to buy the Rams only underscores the potential power of civically engaged professional athletes. Maybe this is the dawn of a new era—an era of renewed self-respect, moral integrity and civic engagement—in professional sports.

Tony Kornheiser of ESPN’s Pardon the Interruption made this very point earlier in the week, suggesting, “We are out of the Michael Jordan era where everyone wears sneakers, and back to the Jim Brown era of social activism.”

No complaints here.

Come Out, Come Out Whoever You Are(?): Outings in Popular Media

To be upfront about this post, it is a response to Bryan Safi’s video That’s Gay: Coming Out. Upon a cursory viewing of the video, one does get a sense of how coming out on popular shows has been constructed in a way to amp up the drama. On this point, I agree. In his comical framing and colorful presentation, however, I question if he does just as much of a disservice to coming out, or rather the choice/experience of coming out, by his depiction of the examples he uses. I will only say two brief points that I believe are overlooked in his “analysis.” And it must be noted that both points grapple with the same question: what about the nonmoments?

To begin, I quote one contributor over at Womanist Musings, the blog where I found this clip. She states that

Once again, [Safi] is so bang on correct. The way that coming out is constructed in the media is absolutely ridiculous. I mean seriously…they make it seem like someone is admitting to murder. Heaven forbid the media just have GLBT people going on with their lives just like everyone else. Oh no, we cannot possible portray being gay or lesbian as anything other than an oddity.

However, I wonder if the contributor to Womanist Musing listened/watched the entire clip. Safi mentions that there has been a proliferation of “outings,” both voluntary and involuntary, in recent history in the media (in this case speaking only to TV sitcoms). He states that “coming out” has been depicted in a number of ways and through various avenues and the like. In fact he outlines, again in a colorful manner, some himself. The question I have is, does this not speak to reality more than fiction? Is it a sign of times getting better and not worse? Though Safi doesn’t include clips from Grey’s Anatomy, for instance, there was an occasion with Cali where the more fanatical, hysterical “outing” didn’t happen. To use one example Safi uses himself, Glee, wasn’t Kurt’s coming out—both to Mercedes and his father—one of the modal occurrences? What about Calvin in Greek: Ashleigh thinking Calvin is hitting on her and she makes a move (a kiss) only to be stopped with the news that he is gay? I am not saying that this is in fact how everyone who is outwardly gay came out, but Safi’s portrayal, at least to me, sullies and minimizes those experiences.

Though I agree that “coming out” has been incorporated into scripts to draw in the crowds, I have to ask about the assumption that we are making about the entire cast of characters being heterosexual save for those who will be somehow marked as gay. I know that some will say this is a statistical fact; there are more heterosexual individuals than homosexual. This may very well be the case but we still see instances in popular sitcomes where we are left in surprise when we find out someone is gay and it is not an instance of the “Flaming Kamikaze” or the “Kanye West Swift Kick.” I think about Grant from Greek, a show that Safi himself uses twice as evidence for his producers using coming out as an attraction to lure viewers in. No one on the show knew that Grant, Calvin’s new boyfriend, was gay until he and Calvin started hooking up. It seems to me that from the position Safi puts himself in is one that assumes everyone is straight until proven otherwise. That, to me, is problematic in and of itself though I do understand that given the history of LGBQTI individuals in the media, it is a reasonable assumption.

When speaking of such an important life event in people’s lives I think we have to be a little smarter in our analysis even when trying to be snarky and comical. Sadly, Safi sensationalizes the outings in the same manner he vilifies the media for doing. Is that the pot calling the kettle black? Instead of taking a more exhaustive, panoramic view of the presence of LGBQTI individuals on television shows and their “outings” and lack thereof, Safi lets us all down, gay and straight alike.

What Up?!

Watching the GOP scramble to rebrand their party’s image following President Obama’s election has been a fascinating development in American politics. But nothing has been quite as interesting as the GOP’s new website, launched yesterday, aptly found at GOP.com. In a dramatic push to make the Party appear more inclusive, the site depicts a wide range of “Faces of the GOP”—not surprisingly composed primarily of women and racial minorities.

RNC Chairman Michael Steele runs his own blog on the site, originally titled “What Up,” but later changed to “Change the Game” following ridicule from folks on the Left. Steele used his first blog post to laud the Internet’s mobilizing potential and prompt readers with the age-old question, “What makes you a Republican?” Judging from the Party’s current organizational schizophrenia, I can only imagine the range of responses Steele’s going to get.

Still, Steele’s efforts are admirable, if a little suspect. He really is committed to “changing the game,” making the GOP more inclusive in an era of multiculturalism and diversity. And GOP.com is a much better effort than Steele’s last push to attract more diversity to the Republican Party. When asked a few months back how he plans to bring more minorities to the GOP, Steele replied, “My plan is to say, ‘Ya’ll come.’” A member of the audience then shouted, “I’ll bring the collard greens,” to which Steele added, “I got the fried chicken and potato salad.” There’s no fried chicken recipes at GOP.com, but there certainly are many pictures of black faces sprinkled throughout the website. Dropping the racial stereotypes in favor of symbolic inclusion is, at the very least, a step forward for the GOP.

That said, it’s an understatement to interpret the site as a feigned, superficial attempt to promote racial diversity within a Party that still supports policies of racial inequality. It feels forced, to say the least. The fact that the website lacks a Spanish language conversion option only adds credence to its symbolic—rather than material, substantive, or tangible—purpose. We are talking about a Party with a long, storied history of racialized politics, after all. You know, the same Party that coined the term “welfare queens,” used Willie Horton for political advantage, and sent around emails depicting President Obama as a witch doctor with a bone through his nose. Yeah, that shining Party of racial inclusion.

It is at GOP.com that we truly see race, politics, and racial politics collide and intersect. Steele—the first black Chairman of the RNC—is desperately trying to respond to America’s changing demographics, pandering to a slice of the electorate that, at least in part, affected the outcome of last November’s historic election. That folks (often from the Left) are questioning Steele’s blackness only emphasizes the infusion of race in American politics. And it’s not just “racial politics” at play—you know, politicians catering to different racial groups—but an example of how race and racial considerations inform political messages and campaigns. Race is omnipresent in American politics, just as it is omnipresent in American culture. The content of GOP.com illustrates the political imperative of racial inclusion, but it’s difficult to imagine how the Party can reconcile this lofty goal with the politics of white resentment that has historically formed the Party’s base. Factor in Steele’s racial identity, and the RNC emerges as a social laboratory of racial dynamics, balancing multiculturalism with implicit racism and operating within the context of our nation’s first multi-racial President. Symbolic gesture or not, GOP.com is a window into a layered world of race and politics.

It’s unclear how Americans, minority or otherwise, will react to GOP.com. There are, indeed, plenty of racial minorities that believe in limited government, states’ rights, and many other aspects of the Republican Party’s platform. But I imagine it’s hard to get on board with a Party that fans the flames of racial resentment for political gain. Will GOP.com “change the game?” Maybe, but it will be an uphill battle for the RNC. Unfortunately for Steele, a few black and brown faces on a website—the same site that beckons minorities by asking “What Up?!”—can’t exactly make up for decades of racial animus and exclusionary policies. The RNC’s racial conundrum may ultimately prove too difficult to overcome.

More on Obama & Gay Rights

Yesterday's post on Obama and gay rights deserves an addendum following Jamelle's insightful critique over at The League of Ordinary Gentlemen. On the whole, I think Jamelle makes some important points about social equality and politics.

To wit:

President Bush, if you remember, supported a Federal Marriage Amendment to the Constitution, and was generally supportive of state-based efforts to strip gay Americans of their rights. Indeed, stoking fear and hostility towards gay Americans was part of the Bush administration’s reelection effort. I mean, to just sort of underscore the degree to which it was open season on gay Americans, the White House consistently opposed the extension of hate crimes legislation to gays, even as the country saw a sharp rise in the number of hate crimes targeted at gays. Activists are well within their rights to criticize Obama’s speech as “just words,” but in doing so, they miss an important fact about presidential rhetoric: it makes a difference. It further brings gay concerns into the mainstream and gives them a sense of urgency.

This is certainly not to say that the gay community should ignore the fact that Obama has yet to really move on gay rights, but on the whole, I that it’s far more productive to at least acknowledge that Barack Obama is an ally, and – slow-walking notwithstanding – is openly supportive of gay rights. Tearing him down politically – as opposed to lobbying and pressuring – only makes his job that much harder.

Presidential rhetoric, though largely symbolic, definitely makes a difference. America's general disdain for identity politics often makes such rhetoric politically damaging, so going out on a limb for gay rights is certainly commendable. Attacks levied against President Obama, as Jamelle notes, do in fact lack historical perspective, as the last eight years were pretty atrocious as far as civil liberties and social equality are concerned.

That said, I think much of the defense of Obama on this issue also lacks perspective. I doubt many Obama defenders wake up each morning to a partner they can't call "husband" or "wife" because of some laughable "sanctity" of marriage. I doubt many people arguing "Just wait, your time will come" have to suppress their identity among men and women they share the ultimate wartime bond with. I doubt many people ignorantly claiming "Congress will defend gay rights when they have time" live with an identity that's caricatured in pop culture and historically rejected as immoral and perverse. I doubt many people suggesting "He's done a lot for gay rights already" face a culture where accepting your sexual identity is referred to as "coming out"--suggesting that your very existence represents a rejection of social norms. In judging a President's record on social equality, this is the perspective we need to keep in mind. This perspective--the human element behind the politics of social policy--is, in my opinion, a critical measure of our progress as a nation. And it is within this context that many critics are (rightfully) a bit frustrated with the Obama administration.

But Jamelle's also right: There's a fine line between attacking President Obama on this issue and pressuring him to move forward with his promises. Political criticism, when done tactfully, is healthy--but criticism can very quickly become an unhelpful attack. Obama's symbolic gestures are magnanimous, yes, but most of us can agree there's still a long way to go.

Meghan McCain Continues to Impress, President Obama Continues to Disappoint

Fresh off his Nobel Peace Prize announcement, President Obama addressed thousands of gay right protestors marching at our nation’s capital this past Saturday night. It was a rousing speech, as always, filled with promises and strong, assertive language.

But it was an empty speech, void of action, conviction, or credibility. He promised to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” the controversial Clinton-era policy of identity suppression in the military. But it was a promise he’d made before. And it was a promise he has thus far utterly failed to act upon.

As Andrew Sullivan writes:

All I can say is: the president gave a speech he could have given at any point in the last three years. No one in that room could disagree with any of the things he said. I sure don't (with the exception of the hate crimes hooey). And he said it well and movingly. Like we didn't know he could do that.

But the point of electing a president who pledged to actually do things is to hold him to account, and to see if he is willing to take any risk of any kind to actually do something. I had a few prior tests of his seriousness or signs that he gets it, a few ways to judge if this speech had anything new or specific or clear. He failed every test.

Meghan McCain, equally appalled, writes:

Obama offered no timeline for phasing out this policy and, as usual, no real specifics. But the president verbalized his commitment to ending it—which is not insignificant [...]During the election, Obama pledged that the very first thing he would do as president would be to repeal Don't Ask, Don't Tell. Although I thought it was an ambitious promise, I believed him. It's now almost a year into his presidency and other than making speeches, nothing has happened.

There’s no two ways around it: Sullivan and McCain are spot on. This administration has thus far been absolutely abysmal in promoting social equality. Abysmal. Crumbling economy notwithstanding, don’t get on a pulpit and expect us to be happy with negligence. Don’t say all the right things and expect us to be satisfied with gross inaction. Don’t try to appease the progressive electorate that struggled to put you in office. Don’t make empty promises you have no intention of honoring.

It’s a sad state of affairs when the daughter of Obama’s Republican challenger from last November has a better stance on gay rights than our own Democratic President. If the Nobel Peace Price was intended to push Obama to, you know, actually promote peace by ending our two wars, what award do we need to give him to promote gay rights? What will it take, and how much longer must we wait?

As Meghan McCain continues to assert herself at the forefront of the fight for gay rights, Obama continues to disappoint. Maybe he thinks repealing "Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell" is unwise politically, regardless of his personal beliefs. Maybe he thinks a gay rights agenda will hurt him in the future. This may be so, but his insulting failure to act—on the eve of National Coming Out Day, no less—certainly isn’t winning him any new progressive allies.

Obama has the potential to promote real, substantive change. Unfortunately, it doesn't look like he'll be acting on that potential any time soon.

God-Given Rights

I may be too young to remember past Presidential transition periods, but there seems to be something unique about public opinion over the last few months, something that defies reason or logic. Across the various “tea party” protests and town hall disruptions, a plethora of arguments have been levied against Barack Obama, the federal government in the abstract, and, well, whatever happens to bother protestors at any given moment.

Dissent vacillates from the understandable, if wrongheaded (fear of big government) to the outright outlandish (the government wants to kill old people). One of the most glaring issues with the “tea party” protests is the ridiculous claim of growing socialism, fascism, and (un)American-ness. One protestor glibly quipped at the recent 9/12 event in Washington, “Barack Obama is an eloquent speaker. But you know who else was? Hitler.” Well for what it's worth, Hitler wasn't exactly an "eloquent" speaker. He was a fiery speaker. An angry, erratic, and emotional speaker. A bit of a difference. Opposites, in fact.

But no argument is as egregious as the idea that we need to return to the vision of our founding fathers—a vision that includes so-called “God-given” rights. A vision from the same founding fathers that owned slaves. A vision from the same founding fathers that institutionalized rights for all men. If we are supposed to follow the intentions of our nation’s founders, shouldn’t we get rid of all the constitutional amendments that altered their original vision? Can I own slaves, and realize my right to life, liberty, and property? Why move forward and progress, when we can revert back to the glory days?

Recently, Glenn Beck offered his own take on our founding fathers’ vision of God-given, inalienable rights. We’ve entrusted too much in government, you see, and instead need to rely solely on our God-given rights. We don’t need government handouts because God has handed out everything we need. Interestingly, conservative blogger Allahpundit, of conservative pundit Michelle Malkin’s Hotair.com, disagrees with Beck’s empirically vacant, inaccurate historical argument:

“[…] If the key to American governance is the passage in the Declaration of Independence about god-given inalienable rights, why’d the authors of the Constitution go ahead and enumerate some of those rights anyway? And why, if they’re inalienable and god-given, weren’t those rights made exempt from amendment or repeal via Article V? The touchstone of the Constitution isn’t God, it’s rule by popular consent; religion may well influence the public in deciding which rights are so critical that even the popularly elected government should be forbidden to touch them, but when push comes to shove, it’s your call, not God’s. Slavery was once a right too, after all, and I’m sure there were plenty of apologists who found religious backing for that, fair or not. […]”

Politicians, in fact, create laws and rights. Different nation states enforce different laws and protect different rights because, of course, they contain different politicians and govern through different political structures. God didn’t bestow the democratic process; people created different ideas of governance.

The gospel of the Constitution has been romanticized to such an extent that pundits and citizens alike are deifying a man-made historical document. Whether or not you believe in God or any other spiritual entity, the fact remains that rights are not “God-given.” We fight for rights. We struggle for rights. We—as in, “we the people”—create rights for ourselves: We define what exactly constitutes a right, mobilize and pressure politicians to enact them, and then rely on our leaders to protect them.

Rights aren’t uniformly deployed, decontextualized, from a spiritual construct that may or may not exist. They emerge from the bottom up, from the same “ regular people” Beck and others claim to represent.

How (Not So) Far We’ve Come: Still “Doing Gender”

Last week I attended an Inequality Seminar here at Harvard. An attractive bonus to attending these lectures beyond exposure to work from scholars across the country is, to be honest, the free food. And due to the old habit of practicing good hygiene and the fear of Swine Flu, I went to the restroom to wash my hands before fixing me a plate. When I was leaving the bathroom I noticed that there was a baby changing station (pictured above) in the men's room. I smiled. For someone who was a Women's and Gender Studies major undergrad, I was happy to see that there was a baby changing station in the men's room as I have noticed the lack of them in many of the sporting, movie, and entertainment venues I frequented in the last year. And I think it is safe to say that I have only seen a few of the baby stations in men's bathrooms over the course of my life (of course more on this side of year 2000). This was, to me, was a step in the right direction. Go Social Progress!

The smile, however, faded quickly after I looked pass the family of elephants and saw the stereotypical, gendered depiction. Before I continue, I want to point out that the elephant family is a normative one—father, mother, and child—which is, to some degree, problematic in and of itself. Now I am not trying to make a mountain out of an anthill but one cannot (or at least should not) ignore the more subtle undertones of the seemingly "innocent" and "innocuous" depiction of the parent changing the child. This was a men's room yet still it was "Mommy" changing the child. Even in the quintessential, gender segregated location to which we all must abide lest we are called perverts or some kind of outcast by others in society, gendered norms and expectations are still as present, alive, and strong as ever. If one takes gender as a masternarrative, an ever-present entity in the background influences interactions between individuals in a myriad of ways, one sees the ways in which our actions and the behavioral expectations others have of us are scripted. Furthermore, we are looked upon to abide by those scripts. Where is Daddy elephant while Mommy changes Jr.? At the watering hole with the other bulls?

I think this cartoon on the baby changing station is an example that gives even more credence to the argument that we all do and are expected to "do gender." To paraphrase their 1987 article where Sociologists West and Zimmerman developed their revolutionary hypothesis that one can "do gender," gender is something one performs. This idea is important because it states that gender is not natural, not an innate characteristic of men and women. Rather, they assert that gender is

A routine, methodical, and recurring accomplishment. We contend that the 'doing' of gender is undertaken by women and men whose competence as members of society is hostage to its production. Doing gender involves a complex of socially guided perceptual, interactional, and micropolitical activities that cast particular pursuits of masculine and feminine 'natures.'

In essence, gender is determined not by one's biology, but by society's reaction to and perception of one's biology. Gender is one's conduct that affirms one's sex category. In other words, if one is male then one must act like a male, and if female, one must act female. A person's sex is a "biological fact;" sex categories reserve certain activities and characteristics for particular sexes, but gender consists of the "routine, methodical, and recurring accomplishments" of everyday life. West and Zimmerman argue that accountability plays a key role in producing gender, because not only are we responsible for "doing gender" on a daily basis, we are held socially accountable for all our actions—all decisions must be made as if being watched because each action either affirms or disproves our gender. But what do examples like this say about the expectations we have for women and men to perform in 2009?

I bring up West and Zimmerman here specifically because I think this picture shows the inertial force behind deeply held gendered expectations. Rubbermaid could have easily drawn one cartoon depicting a male caregiver changing his child and one showing a female caregiver doing the same. To my knowledge, very few places have only one single sex bathroom in their establishment. Even all girls all boys school have both men's and women's bathrooms. I would assume you have to buy the pair anyway. Or why not leave off the "human side" of things all together and remove oneself from the question of who to put changing the baby? If this post is seen as a one where the author is being nitpicky then so be it. But as the slogan from years ago simply and emphatically states, men are caregivers too. The last thing I will say is this: I believe it is time for us all to move beyond these false binaries which based on unfounded constructions of reality that are themselves the result of sociomental processes aimed at alleviating cognitive dissonance for living in a blurred instead of a dichotomous world.

What The Notorious BIG Can Tell Us About Race and Immigration

In Black Identities, Harvard sociologist Mary Waters analyzes the racial and ethnic identities of first and second generation West Indian immigrants in New York City. At its core, Black Identities is a study of paradox. Waters eloquently states, “[For West Indians], America is a contradictory place…a land of greater opportunities than their homelands but simultaneously a land of racial stigma and discrimination. Immigrants readily buy into an image of American affluence, but are grounded in American racial and economic realities. One respondent noted despair that America is a “white world” in which “white people have all the money,” but in the same breath rejoiced in the fact that America is “a place where everyone has opportunity.” This is the inherent contradiction of the “American dream:” First generation West Indian immigrants must reconcile their lofty expectations of achievement with the myth of American social mobility as they grapple with structural and interpersonal racism in their day-to-day lives.

Second generation West Indian immigrants are also directly confronted with uniquely American race relations, resulting in contradictory immigrant identities. On the one hand, some immigrants embrace their Caribbean ancestry and construct social boundaries separating themselves from black Americans. On the other hand, many young, second generation West Indians (a plurality of her sample) buy into the uniquely American racial caste system and self-identify as black, abandoning other “ethnic options.” There wouldn’t be anything wrong with indentifying as “black,” if of course a slew of disadvantages and prejudices didn’t follow as a result. When race collides and interacts with social structure and culture, West Indian immigrant identity precariously wavers between ethnic loyalty and American assimilation. Paradoxically, the choice to remain loyal to their West Indian heritage affords these immigrants more social mobility than direct incorporation into American culture, as buying into American stereotypes often means downward mobility.

Sound familiar? Oddly reminiscent of a certain Brooklyn born rap legend? Indeed, The Notorious BIG represents an interesting case study—and exemplar—of Waters’ extensive empirical data. Biggie was born to a hardworking, loving Jamaican immigrant mother. While his father was largely absent from his life, Biggie’s mother held steady employment as a pre-school teacher and by all accounts was an involved parent. She enrolled her son in a private middle school in Brooklyn where he thrived academically. This scholastic success, of course, came to an end when Biggie began selling drugs at age 12. A (pun intended) notorious crack dealer, he eventually dropped out of high school, only to reach temporary stardom but ultimately suffer an untimely death.

A scene near the beginning of the recent biopic Notorious, in which Biggie’s character exhibits admiration and lust for the life of a street hustler, is telling. Waters’ research suggests that Biggie’s identity as a second generation West Indian immigrant could have, presumably, led him to continue his studies and perhaps achieve upward mobility—distancing himself both from the general stereotypes of American blacks and the actual hustlers in his immediate surroundings. But, when confronted with the reality of American race relations—in this example, Bed-Stuy/Clinton Hill in the early ‘90s—Biggie could have just as easily been propelled to identify more with the black Americans selling drugs on the corner by his house. Like many poor second generation West Indian immigrants, Biggie lacked local models of success, a disparity caused by urban economic marginalization and resulting in a push to identify with a certain type of black American.

Big had an ethnic “choice,” sure; claim his Jamaican roots, or step in line with America’s vision of race. But it was a structured choice provided under economic duress and within the context of a uniquely American racial order. The problem is, both paths of ethnic identity formation have problematic results for blacks as a whole. By distancing themselves from the “black underclass,” many West Indians reaffirm long-standing stereotypes of blacks as lazy, violent, and generally inferior. In this model, immigrants achieve individual mobility at the expense of group advancement. In other words, individual immigrants can use this boundary work to catapult themselves toward success, but it negates the possibility for the advancement of blacks as a group. West Indians face American stereotypes and norms of black insolence, and their rejection—and even acceptance—of this identity solidifies white preconceptions. This puts West Indian immigrants in a uniquely difficult position—a Catch-22 in which either path of identity formation reinforces a firm black-white color line.

Biggie’s life story dovetails nicely with Waters’ analysis, complicating traditional studies of race, immigration, and assimilation in the United States. Of course, Biggie’s life obviously doesn’t reflect the experiences of all second generation West Indian immigrants. Still, Waters’ analysis in Black Identities does help explain, in part, why “G-E-D, wasn’t B-I-G.”

The White Racist Meme

It would be an understatement to argue that the mass media has taken on racial analysis with unprecedented zeal since the election of Barack Obama. Unfortunately, in attempts to present fair and balanced news coverage, cable news programs have typically included panels with representatives from both sides of the Left-Right ideological spectrum.

The problem with this method, of course, is that subsequent analyses usually follow the same tired pattern: “That was racist!” vs. “That is ridiculous! Race was not a factor!” At best, this produces unproductive exchanges. At worst, it woefully simplifies complex social process and interactions, institutionalizing diametrically opposed ideological camps instead of offering nuanced analysis.

Luckily, the Washington Post has Eugene Robinson, who wrote an important op-ed last Friday:

“Of course it's possible to reject Obama's policies and philosophy without being racist. But there's a particularly nasty edge to the most vitriolic attacks -- a rejection not of Obama's programs but of his legitimacy as president. This denial of legitimacy is more pernicious than the abuse heaped upon George W. Bush by his critics (including me), and I can't find any explanation for it other than race.

I'm not talking about the majority of the citizens who went to town hall meetings to criticize Obama's plans for health-care reform or the majority of the "tea bag" demonstrators who complain that Obama is ushering in an era of big government. Those are, of course, legitimate points of view. Protest is part of our system. It's as American as apple pie.

I'm talking about the crazy "birthers." I'm talking about the nitwits who arrive at protest rallies bearing racially offensive caricatures -- Obama as a witch doctor, for example. I'm talking about the idiots who toss around words like "socialism" to make Obama seem alien and even dangerous -- who deny the fact that he, too, is as American as apple pie.”

Not to be outdone, Frank Rich weighed in on Saturday:

“But there is a national conversation we must have right now — the one about what, in addition to race, is driving this anger and what can be done about it. We are kidding ourselves if we think it’s only about bigotry, or health care, or even Obama. The growing minority that feels disenfranchised by Washington can’t be so easily ghettoized and dismissed.”

Robinson and Rich hit the nail on the head. To argue one way or another that current debates over healthcare or other social policies are solely “about race” is to miss the point entirely.

Race is omnipresent in this country. Racial distinctions inform policy debates, delineate opportunity, and structure social interactions. But that doesn’t mean that all white people, or all white protestors, are uniformly “racist.” Nor can the omnipresence of race sufficiently and adequately capture the nuance of white racial identity. For different people, different social processes precipitate racial prejudice. Some learn from their parents, while others learn from conflict in the workplace. Some develop prejudices from economic competition with minorities, while others experience blind ignorance as a result of extreme social isolation. Among the so-labeled “racists,” some hold disdain for “welfare queens,” while others fear random violence from young black men. Some are overwhelmingly concerned with illegal immigration and “protecting our borders,” while others can’t even stand the thought of sitting next to a minority. Some believe in the racial profiling of Middle Eastern folks at airports, while others blame blacks for their own disadvantage. Some engage in recreational racism, while others use disdain for social policies like affirmative action as proxies for bigotry. Some whites hold a combination of these prejudices, while others hold none. Sometimes these prejudices are grounded in real life experiences, but sometimes they aren't. At the very least, white racial identity and prejudice is complicated and takes innumerable, varied forms.

To discuss and analyze race is not to revert to an either/or, racist/not racist false dichotomy. Race matters as an everyday reality of inequality, yes, but it’s not as simple as the White Racist Meme suggests. Race matters because it’s always mattered. But racism matters in increasingly complex ways.

The question is not if race matters. The question is how.